


2017 Inktober for Writers Fills

by 27dragons



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Courtship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dancing, F/F, F/M, Flirting, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Multi, Natasha Always Wins, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sappy Fluff, Scary, Self-Esteem Issues, Smut, Team as Family, Truth Serum, Weddings, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-29 03:22:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 10,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12622032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons
Summary: 27 of 31 days filled onthisInktober for Writers challenge. This work is marked unrated, but most of the fills are G or T; there are two or three that would rate an M. Rating and fill-specific tags in the chapter notes!





	1. Searching [Bucky/Tony]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tisfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/gifts), [Shi_Toyu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shi_Toyu/gifts).



> I wasn't going to post these, since I didn't finish the challenge, so you have tisfan and Shi_Toyu to thank and/or blame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Chapter Tags: soulmate AU, self-loathing

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

Bucky ducked his head and leaned back, as if yearning to meld into the shadows and disappear. “I didn’t want you to know.”

Tony was shaking with emotion, though he would be hard-pressed to say precisely _what_ emotion. “It’s you. It’s been you this whole time. And you didn’t _tell_ me?”

Bucky actually looked at him, finally. “Why the hell would I _tell_ you?”

“All these years, I’ve been searching, hoping to find my match, and you knew?”

Bucky’s eyes glittered with tears. “I couldn’t take that hope away from you.”

“It’s a terminal case anyway,” Tony snapped. “All this time, I’ve wondered if they were in a coma -- watching my mark endlessly, waiting for it to lose its color when they died? Or thinking that they hated me, couldn’t stand the idea of being matched with me--”

“You deserve better than me,” Bucky whispered.

Tony had to restrain himself from hauling off and punching Bucky. Talk about inauspicious beginnings. “What I deserve,” Tony bit off, “is to get to decide for myself how I feel. Don’t you think? We may have some things to work through, but you have my _mark_ , Bucky. That means we’re meant to fit together.”

Bucky shook his head quickly. “I’m a _monster_ , Tony.”

Tony felt his lip curl in a snarl. “Don’t talk that way about my soulmate.”

 


	2. Barefoot [Rhodey/Tony]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Chapter Tags: college AU, Howard Stark’s A+ parenting, otp or brotp

The grass sparkled with dew, promising cool refreshment for tired feet.

“C’mon, Tones,” Rhodey said. He’d already dropped onto the sidewalk and was stripping off his sneakers and socks.

“Not really my style, platypus,” Tony said, rocking back on his heels and diverting his gaze.

“Walking barefoot in the grass is _everyone’s_ style,” Rhodey said. He rolled to his feet easily and shot a shrewd look in Tony’s direction. “What’s going on, man?”

There weren’t words for this mixture of longing and dread. The creeping sensation of his father watching over his shoulder, waiting for him to mess up. The knowledge that if he did what he wanted to do, then he was taking a chance -- because if he _liked_ it and then Howard somehow found out, he’d never get to enjoy it again. Not in any simple and uncomplicated way.

The utter certainty that it wasn’t just the grass that had him tied up in knots.

There weren’t words. It was easier to shrug and say, “Nothing’s up. It just seems very inefficient.”

“Oh,” said Rhodey knowingly, because after three years as roommates, Rhodey knew when Howard was talking with Tony’s voice. “Like it was efficient for us to stay up all night at the lab when we could’ve been getting some sleep?”

“That was _very_ efficient,” Tony argued. “We’re _days_ ahead of the rest of the class on our project now.”

“Fat lot of good that’ll do us when we’re too tired to pass today’s test,” Rhodey shot back. “Come on. Across the Quad is the fastest way to get to coffee.”

That was dirty pool. Tony glared at Rhodey, but toed off his shoes without untying them, then balanced on each foot -- more precariously than usual, though Tony absolutely would not admit that Rhodey might have a point about sleep -- to strip off his socks. “There,” he said, stuffing the socks into one shoe harder than necessary. “Happy, now?”

Rhodey’s grin could compete with the rising sun. “Just about. C’mon, man. I’ll race you.”

He took off across the Quad without waiting for Tony’s response, kicking up a spray of dew and leaving dark footprints in his wake.

Tony protested, laughing, and followed. Even if it was doomed to get complicated later, he could enjoy the simplicity for now.

 


	3. Warmth [Bucky/Nat/Tony]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Chapter Tags: cuddling

The workshop doors opened and Tony looked around to see Natasha pulling Bucky by one wrist. “Good... morning?” he tried.

Natasha didn’t answer, though Bucky lifted his free hand in a little wave.

Tony cocked his head curiously, but Bucky just shrugged.

Natasha pulled Bucky over to the couch and pushed him to sit on it. When he’d been situated to her satisfaction, she came for Tony. She reached for his hand, and he pulled it out of her reach. “Any chance here that you’ll tell me what’s going on?”

“There is frost on the ground,” she said. “Come now.”

Tony gave up hoping to understand and let her lead him over to the couch as well. She positioned him next to Bucky, with a space not quite large enough for her between them. “Seriously, what--”

Natasha slithered sideways into the space between them, leaning back against Bucky’s chest and draping her legs over Tony’s.

Tony looked at Bucky, and Bucky shrugged again, and wrapped his arms around their girlfriend. She sighed happily and snuggled into the embrace. “Warm,” she sighed happily.

Tony snorted. “Some badass Soviet ‘let me tell you about Russian winters’ spy _you_ are.”

“Just because I _can_ endure the cold doesn’t mean I _have_ to,” she shot back.

“It’s not cold in here,” Tony pointed out. “The place is fully climate controlled.”

She sniffed disdainfully and prodded Tony’s thigh with one foot until he gave in and started rubbing her feet through the fuzzy Thor socks she was wearing.

Tony looked at Bucky again. “And you’re going along with this because...?”

Bucky tried hard not to look amused, but ultimately failed. “Snuggles,” he said. “Why not?”

“Good point,” Tony said. He slumped down into the couch, leaning until his shoulder was pressed against Bucky’s and his hand curled over Natasha’s legs, and let himself drowse in his lovers’ warmth.


	4. Compliment [Peggy/Angie]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Chapter Tags: pining, catcalling, compliments, flirting

It was long past closing when Angie and Peggy stop talking long enough for Angie to wipe down the diner counters and hang her apron on its hook. “C’mon, English,” Angie said when she emerged from the kitchen, “I’ll walk ya home.”

Since they lived in the same building, that was a bit of foolishness, but Peggy’s heart hammered a little faster anyhow.

If she were given to excessive fretting, Peggy might worry whether her feelings for the actress were unnatural or immoral somehow, but she’d seen enough in the war and its aftermath not to have much use for morals looked down their nose on people who weren’t hurting anyone else -- the world was bleak enough already without denying it whatever pleasure it could find. And she might worry that her feelings were disloyal to Steve, except that Steve was _dead_ , as hard as it was to even think it.

And Peggy was very, very much alive.

They’d only gone a couple of blocks when a shrill whistle came out of the darkness. “Ain’t you two a tasty treat?” a gruff voice called. “How much for th’ pair?”

Peggy tucked her arm through Angie’s, turned her nose up, and kept walking, because that was how one treated rudeness, but the voice followed them. “Aw, don’t be like that, girls! I’m just after a little fun. Can’t ya take a compliment?”

Angie whirled around so fast that she nearly threw Peggy to the street. “Compliment?” she demanded boldly. “You think that’s a compliment?” She stalked a few steps toward the catcaller despite Peggy’s attempt to pull her back. “Let me tell you somethin’, buster! That ain’t no compliment!”

The catcaller was a big guy, bigger than Steve had been, even, though unkempt and sloppy in a way that Steve never had been, even fresh from battle. He looked startled by Angie’s fierce response, as well he might, a muscle-bound mastiff to Angie’s scrawny, spitting alley cat.

_Carter_ , Peggy thought to herself, _you’ve got a type_.

“You wanna compliment a lady,” Angie was telling him, one finger wagging, “you tell ‘er, _Gee, your hair looks nice tonight_. Or you say, _Gosh, what a pretty dress_.” She’d said both those things to Peggy earlier that evening.

“Better yet, y’wanna get a lady to like you,” Angie continued, still advancing, still pulling Peggy along with her, “you ask her how ‘er day’s been, an’ y’actually _listen_. You maybe help her out with a thing she could use a hand with, without her havin’ to ask. But I guess a big bully like you wouldn’t know ‘bout any of that, would ya?”

Angie was right up in the man’s face now, stretching up on her toes just to meet him eye to eye. Irrelevantly, Peggy wanted to kiss her stubbornly-pursed lips, to smooth the little wrinkles from the tip of her nose.

The man was beginning to recover from his surprise, and it was morphing rapidly into anger. Peggy shook off her fanciful daydreams. “I’m so sorry for my friend,” she said pleasantly, tugging Angie back again. “I think what she meant to say was--” The man’s head swung toward Peggy, and Peggy’s left hook came from the other direction to meet it. A lucky shot -- she knocked him hard enough to throw him against the alley wall. He rattled a bit, and then fell to the ground.

“What,” she said to Angie, breathless, “was that?”

“Well, geez, Pegs, I had to get you inside his reach somehow!”

Peggy pulled up short and stared at Angie. “You,” she said sternly, “are reckless, foolhardy, strong-willed, and... an excellent distraction.”

Angie beamed brilliantly. “Aw, English,” she sighed, “you sure know how ta compliment a gal.”

 


	5. Fallen [Bucky/Tony]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Chapter Tags: pining, self-loathing, which one of them is the pov character?

He fell a long time ago. Physically, spiritually, morally. In every possible way that he could fall, he fell.

His whole life has been a fall, an out-of-control tumble toward some rocky precipice below. He’s learned, over many trials, that it’s better not to look. It doesn’t hurt any less, but at least you don’t have to anticipate the pain.

Of course, looking away from the end of the fall means focusing on its beginning, which is its own delectable agony.

He can remember: a time before he’d ever taken a life. A time when he hadn’t been complicit in evil. A time when he’d been whole. A time when he’d been ignorant of life’s pain.

A time before he knew Steve Rogers.

A time before he knew how many ways there were to fall.

He’s falling again. It’s going to be particularly painful this time.

Falling in love usually is.

Especially when he’s falling for someone like this. Someone witty and funny, someone smart and strong, someone who damn well deserves the title of _superhero_. Someone who looks at him with kindness.

Someone who knows what sleepless nights feel like. Someone who’s been hurt, who’s had their own share of falls to recover from. Someone who’s been betrayed, but can still find it in their heart to trust.

Someone who doesn’t need his baggage, his pain, to add to theirs.

He’s falling, and there’s no stopping it.

He’s falling, and it’s hopeless, but he can’t stop himself from reaching out, a desperate grasp for hope...

He didn’t expect to be caught. He didn’t expect to find that they were falling together.

He thought he knew everything there was to know about falling, but this time, he’s learned something new: If you fall long enough, it turns into flight.

 


	6. Water [Steve/Tony]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Chapter Tags: panic attack, reference to previous torture

Tony was okay being in the water, as long as he was in control. If he was wearing a suit, or had free range of motion, it was _fine_.

But the Mark XXIII had been disabled, and Tony had taken it off in anticipation of JARVIS sending him the MARK XXVII at any second so he could get back into the fight... and that was when the giant squid (!) grabbed Tony around the middle (!!) and dragged him into the water (!!!).

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t fight the thing; it was too massive. He couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t fight the thing and he was getting too damned close to the point of panic where he’d stop being able to hold his breath, and then--

Oh, hey, panic attack.

He choked and tried to breathe and gagged on the water and choked again.

Something else grabbed him by the arm, something smaller, and oh, fuck, he was going to be fucking _torn apart_ under the water before he could decently drown, and that was, that was just unacceptable. Tony flailed with all his might, and to his surprise the squid let him go and whatever had him was pulling him away.

Tony kept fighting, but even if the thing was smaller than the squid, it was much stronger than Tony. He was going to die--

He landed on something hard. His stomach churned and turned over, and he barely managed to roll onto his side before he started vomiting seawater.

“Stand back, give him some space,” said a voice that Tony knew, but couldn’t name yet thanks to the bright sparks of panic still dancing behind his eyes.

_Safe_ , that voice meant, and Tony closed his eyes and let the darkness close over him.

When he woke, it was to find himself in bed, and for a moment, he wondered if the whole thing had been a dream.

But Steve was there, sitting in a chair he’d drawn up beside the bed, eyes almost luminous in the dim light and fixed on Tony. “Tony?” he said carefully. “You know who I am?”

Tony was too bone-deep tired to summon a snappy response. “Sure, Cap,” he said. His voice was hoarse, his throat sore.

Steve sagged a little. “Good,” he said on a sigh. “I, _we_ didn’t want you to wake up alone, but you were pretty out of it, before.”

That conjured a mental image of the _before_ that Tony had been trying to pretend was only a dream, and he gagged on the memory.

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay, it’s over!” Steve said. He reached out, hesitated. “What do you need?” he asked. “Can I touch you?”

Tony nodded, still fighting the urge not to throw up all over himself and his bed. _You’re dry now, dummy_ , he told himself. Steve’s hand closed over his shoulder and that... helped. Tony made himself focus on that firm grasp, the light scent of Steve leaning over him, masculine and spicy, until he could breathe again. “Water,” he rasped in answer to Steve’s look of concern. “When I was in Afghanistan, they’d stick my head into a bucket of water and hold me under.”

Steve’s confusion cleared into anger. “Jesus. That’s...”

“Yeah, it sucks,” Tony agreed. Now that he could breathe again, he could feel how tired he still was. “I’m okay,” he told Steve. “If you want to go.”

Steve let go of Tony’s shoulder and sat back into the chair, watching Tony thoughtfully. “I don’t much care for water either,” he said. “When I crashed the _Valkyrie_ , it was cold, of course, but the last thing I remember is the water closing over my head.”

Tony grimaced. Yeah, that would suck.

Steve propped one foot on the side of the bed and folded his arms like he was settling in for a nap. “So if you don’t mind,” he said, “I’ll stay.”

Tony let his eyes fall shut. “Yeah, Steve,” he breathed. “Stay as long as you want.”

 


	7. Confusion [Kate/America]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Chapter Tags: dancing, hawkeye is a disaster

The club music was too loud to invite conversation, so Kate just danced, letting the driving beat dictate the rhythm of her heart, letting it move her feet and her arms. They’d been at this for hours, it seemed. Her muscles all felt like rubbery noodles, but the music’s demands were not to be denied, and she danced on.

America danced across from her, something that was half dance and half fight, but god, it was glorious to watch, all that taut muscle and tanned skin, glistening in the strobing lights, and how was that even fair? America _glistened_ while Kate was just sweating, her hair hanging in loose, limp strands.

“We should get out of here,” Kate yelled. America grinned and nodded and shouted something back that Kate didn’t hear, and then kept dancing, which meant America hadn’t heard what Kate had said.

And that was all right, because the music was still playing and they could just keep dancing a while.

America leaned in and shouted something again, and Kate still didn’t catch it. She shrugged and shook her head.

America rolled her eyes and pulled Kate even closer, until America’s breath was panting hard against Kate’s ear. Kate tried hard not to shiver at that sensation. “I said,” America said right into Kate’s ear, “we should get out of here.”

Kate laughed, but she nodded, jerking her chin in the vague direction of the door. _Go ahead_. It only made sense, since America was better at pushing a path through the crowd.

America caught Kate’s hand, so they wouldn’t get separated, and did just that, tugging Kate along in her wake as she shouldered and shoved gyrating bodies out of their way.

When they burst outside, Kate spread her arms and gulped lungful after lungful of the cool night air. “Oh, god, I thought I was going to melt,” she complained happily.

America hummed. “Me too,” she said, and caught Kate around the waist, laughing.

“Wait, what?” Kate stared at America from only inches away.

America’s lips curved in a cat-in-the-cream smile. “I’m going to kiss you now, princess.”

Kate blinked. “Kiss?”

America huffed a little laugh, but didn’t let Kate go. “Did you not realize we’re on a date, Bishop?”

Kate _had_ thought it was odd that none of the boys had come along with them. “No?”

America didn’t seem too put off by it. “We’re on a date,” she told Kate. “That okay?”

God, _was_ it. “Yes,” Kate agreed.

“Okay if I kiss you now, princess?”

“God, yes,” Kate said fervently. She’d only been imagining that all night, watching America dance beside -- _for_ her.

“Good,” said America, and leaned in.

 


	8. Impasse [Bucky/Tony]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Chapter Tags: silliness, nat always wins

“I need that whipped cream for my pie,” Tony said, calm and reasonable as he looked at his boyfriend across the table -- across the last dollop of the special bourbon-cinnamon whipped cream that Sam had brought for Thanksgiving dinner.

“I need it for my hot chocolate,” Bucky returned, just as calm.

“You really don’t,” Tony pointed out. “We have marshmallows. We have _gourmet_ marshmallows. Lots of people drink hot chocolate without whipped cream.”

“Lots of people are _wrong_ ,” Bucky said.

“Whereas no one has ever heard of pumpkin pie that didn’t have whipped cream on it,” Tony continued as if he hadn’t been so rudely interrupted.

“I’m pretty sure you could lower yourself to plain pie,” Bucky said.

“You could lower yourself to normal hot chocolate,” returned Tony.

“Well.”

“Well.”

“It seems we are at an impasse.”

“So it does.”

“Oh, my god,” Natasha said. She leaned over, scooped up the whipped cream with her fingers, and licked it off. “There.”

Tony stared at her. Bucky stared at her, too.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yeah, Tony, I think I am.”

“If you two idiots are thinking what I think you’re thinking,” Natasha said, licking at her fingers again, “you’re going to have to catch me, first.” And she was gone.

“Tony?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s gone.”

“Yeah.” Tony looked at his sad, unadorned pie.

“Let’s just skip dessert and go straight to bed,” Bucky suggested.

“Best plan you’ve had all day.”

 


	9. Strings [Clint/Natsha]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Chapter Tags: creepy, couple’s costume,

The Halloween party was in full swing when Natasha made her entrance.

The makeup job was masterful -- dark creases had been painted at each of her joints, and someone had sketched in just the faintest shading on her skin to give it a wood grain. Rosy circles dotted her cheeks, her mouth had been shaped into a perfect pouting bow, and ridiculously long eyelashes fluttered over her eyes. Heavy strings of twisted black and red dangled from her hands and knees, the ends frayed as if cutting them had been a monumental effort.

There was no doubt that the ballerina costume and shoes were the real deal. Every so often, she’d strike a brief pose _en pointe_ , or perform a few steps. When she did, her eyes would go blank and staring, as if the dancing was something she was compelled to do, a backslide. Afterward, she’d pick up whatever conversation she’d left off as if nothing had happened.

That was already masterful and creepy enough, but after the initial sensation of her costume had passed, Clint slipped in, almost unnoticed until it was impossible _not_ to see him.

He was wrapped all in black from head to toe -- a cannibalization of last year’s ninja costume, no doubt -- except for his hands, which were painted blood-red. He held a marionette’s control bar with severed strings that -- of course -- matched Natasha’s. He didn’t talk, just followed her around. Every so often, he would catch up one of Natasha’s strings and try to tie it back on the control bar.

Usually, she would go into a flurry of dance and pull away, leaving him to stalk after her again... but once in a while, he’d succeed, and she would find herself partially tethered.

When it came time for the judging, only one of her hands was still free, and as they walked across the stage, they went into an obviously well-choreographed “fight” which ended in her recapture. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and then her eyes went blank before she slumped, ironically limp now that her strings were no longer cut. Clint caught her, slung her over one shoulder, and carried her from the stage.

The applause was thunderous, but it took _days_ to shake the sense of unease.

 


	10. Honor [Bucky/Tony]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Chapter Tags: truth serum, it was a conversation long overdue anyway

“Look, if this is some sweet but ultimately misguided attempt to protect my honor, let me assure you: I don’t have any.”

Bucky stared in disbelief. “How can you say that about yourself?” he demanded. “You have... you have _so much_ honor. You have so much honor that you felt obligated to undo all the damage that Stane did in your name. You do what you feel is right, always. You take on guilt for things that aren’t your fault. You let people spit on you, sometimes _literally_ , if it will make them feel better. You let Wanda into your home even though she tried to destroy you. You let _me_ into your home even though I killed your parents. You just-- Damn it, Tony, don’t tell me you don’t have any honor!”

Tony stared. “Wow. I didn’t think you even knew about half of that. Or that you thought so highly of me. You really think that? Oh, shit, don’t--”

Bucky groaned and put his face in his hands. “Of course I do. I think the world of you, Tony. Have for _months_ , but why would you want to have anything to do with me?”

Tony grunted as if he’d been kicked. “It’s probably got something to do with the fact that you’re brave and loyal and smart and talented and oh, let’s not forget _smoking_ hot, and oh my _god_ let’s please shut up now before this stupid truth serum makes either of us say something even more embarrassing?”

Bucky grinned. “Toldja we oughtta be wearin’ gags.”

 


	11. Seasons [Bucky/Steve/Nat/Tony]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Chapter Tags: more headcanon than story, verbal doodling

You would think it was Bucky who was the Winter, but no -- that title belonged to Tony. He could be bitter and icy and biting, occasionally cruel even to those who loved him. But when you were prepared for the cold, his beauty was beautiful, even blinding, not simply on the surface but all the way down to his heart. He wasn’t only ice and snow, once you learned to look, but warm, cozy dens that protected from the weather. He was laughter and hot chocolate and fairy lights in the darkness. He was the spark of hope in the midst of despair.

Bucky was Spring, rising again to new life after the long sleep of winter. He could be gloomy and dismal for days, only to emerge with a bright, sunny smile that warmed everyone in its reach. He swung easily between chilly and fiery, often with not much transition between. His mercurial moods, however were more than worth it for his bashful blushes and passionate kisses.

Steve was the Summer, fierce temper and warm regard and no chill at all. He lived on the outside of his skin, seeing no need to cover or hide any part of himself. He was generous to a fault but prone to holding grudges. He made love the way he did everything else -- with everything he had to offer, heated and passionate.

Autumn was Natasha, with her bright, ever-changing hair and warm laughter that could grow cold in an instant. She was secretive like a morning fog that burned away with warmth and care. She was sweet and spicy and refreshing like pressed cider, and sometimes just as intoxicating. Usually even-tempered, when she let her mask slip, it was a hurricane that had to be weathered. She cooled Steve’s fire the way Bucky teased Tony into warmth.

Together, they were whole.

 


	12. Instrument [Clint/Natasha]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Chapter Tags: clint makes a different call

The Black Widow was a legend, dangerous and clever, and she’d actually made Clint work to get close enough to draw a bead on her -- and before he’d had the string pulled all the way to his ear, she had both her weapons pointed at him. Clint had been in standoffs before, but never with a woman who made his heart race like this.

“You could come with me,” Clint said, not lowering his bow. He could hold this position for hours before his arms would tire. And he had the high ground. “Work for SHIELD. Be an instrument for good in the world.”

The Black Widow didn’t lower her guns. Her lovely mouth twisted into a sneer. “Everyone thinks they work for the good guys. No one says _come work for the villains_. Your precious SHIELD has no qualms sending you to kill me.”

Clint shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not saying they’re white hats. I’m saying they’re a lighter shade of grey than the black-hats you’ve been working for. I’m saying it’s better than dying.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed. “What makes you so certain?”

“You’ll find out,” Clint said, dropping the bow and sliding the arrow back into the quiver. “If you weren’t going to take my offer, you’d already have shot me.”

The Black Widow made another face -- for a spy, she was surprisingly expressive -- and holstered her pistols. “Maybe I’d just rather kill you with my bare hands,” she suggested.

Clint grinned. “You’ll have to get in line for that privilege.”

 


	13. Foolish [Bucky/Steve/Tony]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Chapter Tags: oblivious Tony, courting

Tony knew, eventually, he’d have to make a choice. He wasn’t looking forward to that day, because he was thoroughly enjoying being courted by two super-soldiers. He was a little surprised that they weren’t courting each other, to be honest, but their attention was flattering.

He’d been hearing what a great guy Steve was for as long as he could remember, and was more than a little shocked to realize Steve was every bit as amazing as the stories made out. Physically, of course, but also in personality. They butted heads from time to time, but Steve never forgot that even if they disagreed on methods, their goals were aligned.

And when they weren’t fighting, Steve was attentive, generous with his time and his appreciation. He was tactile, in a way modern men simply weren’t -- it took a while for Tony to get used to it, but he had to admit it felt good, those friendly claps on the shoulder, the squeezes of the arm, the warm press of a body sitting just a little too close.

Steve challenged Tony in the gym to activities that gave them an excuse to crowd close -- hand-to-hand training or one-on-one basketball -- and then insisted on going out for burgers or pizza. They talked about everything and nothing: gossip about their teammates, or more serious discussions of team training and dynamics, or Steve would let Tony talk through an engineering problem even if Steve only understood maybe one word in ten. (Though that ratio was steadily growing; Steve wasn’t a genius, but he was no slouch in the brains department, and Tony liked that, too.)

Bucky, on the other hand, was still a little twitchy about touch, even from Steve, and rarely wanted to leave the Tower for anything other than a call to Assemble. But he sat with Tony in the workshop in companionable silence, or let Tony show him how to disassemble a car engine. He talked to the bots like they were children or particularly clever dogs, and he brought Tony food and fresh coffee, offering them up like gifts.

And whenever Tony had a nightmare and got up to pace the common room floor, Bucky was somehow always there. He didn’t try any platitudes or useless sympathy; he just watched while Tony worked out the worst of the jitters and then suggested a show or movie he hadn’t seen yet.

Sometimes, Tony would doze off, and jerk awake to find his head had dropped onto Bucky’s shoulder or lap, and Bucky would lightly brush back Tony’s hair and say, “Shh, doll, relax, it’s just me. You can rest easy; I’m gonna take care of you.” And Tony would relax and drift back into sleep, lulled by that soft tone and those gentle touches.

It was good, and Tony was rapidly falling for both of them, and he didn’t have the slightest idea what he was going to do when one of them finally made a definitive move and asked for more.

Right up until he walked into the kitchen one afternoon and found them tucked into a corner and kissing.

Tony stumbled to a halt. “Well, I feel foolish.”

He stepped back, ready to leave, but Bucky came toward him. “Tony, doll, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Tony said as lightly as he could manage. “I misread things, that’s on me.”

“No, you didn’t,” Steve said. “We want you.”

“What?”

“We both want you,” Bucky said, taking another step. “With us. Together.”

Tony looked back and forth between them. “When did this... happen?”

Steve looked like he wanted to melt through the floor. “A while ago. Bucky wasn’t really ready to tell the team. They mean well, but the teasing can get a little overwhelming.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. “You didn’t think I should have known that before you started this... whatever it is... with me?”

“I didn’t think you’d be open to it if we just approached you together,” Bucky said. “Figured you might need some time, first, to know we both really like you and want to be with you.”

He wasn’t wrong, either. Tony looked down at the floor, thinking. “This is real? It’s not some elaborate prank?”

“Of course not!” Steve sounded offended at the very idea.

Tony nodded. “Okay. This might end in tears and blood, but okay, let’s give this a try.” He looked up when Steve’s hand closed on his shoulder, and realized Bucky was close enough to kiss.

So he did.

 


	14. Haunted [Gen]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Chapter Tags: nightmares, PTSD,

Some nights, the Tower is haunted.

Steve wakes on a silent scream, too cold to shiver, and drifts from room to room in his too-large apartment, practicing the steps of a dance he’ll never have and searching for a past that passed him by.

There are memories that keep Clint from sleeping. No one knows what they are, only that they make his smile a little too sharp, his piercing gaze a little too distant, the muscles of his arms and shoulders bunch like they’re remembering the reluctant pull of the string. He climbs into the vents and hides, the only sign of his presence or passage the occasional breath or creak.

Natasha fades into the shadows when her conscience grows too heavy. She plucks at the tips of her fingers as if she could pull them off, as if she could take back the squeeze of a trigger by throwing away her trigger fingers. Some nights, all that can be seen of her is her eyes, luminous in the shadowy corners.

The weight of a prince’s responsibility rests easy on Thor’s shoulders, but regret drags like stones at the hem of his clothes. He paces for hours at a time, footsteps echoing. When thunder rolls over the Tower, no one knows whether he more regrets the things his brother did, or the things he did to his brother.

Tony wakes with screams in his mouth and dozens of deaths crowding behind his eyes. Sometimes it’s his own deaths: the tortures, the portal, the palladium in his veins, the betrayals. But sometimes it’s worse, and he’s left alive when others have died. Those nights, he locks himself in his workshop and fills the Tower with the clang and screech of metal.

When the beast roars in Bruce’s veins, he prowls the halls, shoulders hunched, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. The others can only suspect the target of his anger.

Some nights, the Tower is haunted, not by the reluctant dead, but by the regretful living.

 


	15. Intimacy [Steve/Tony]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Chapter Tags: sappy fluff

The best part about dating Tony, Steve thought, was the intimacy.

Not the sex. Though Steve surely enjoyed the sex. It seemed Tony was as brilliantly inventive in bed as in the workshop, and Steve might be occasionally oblivious about romance but he sure as hell wasn’t _timid_ , so the sex was great, it was _amazing_.

But Steve’s favorite part was afterward, when they were still panting and sweaty, bodies aching in the best ways, when Tony would smooth his hands over Steve’s skin, slow and languorous, no destination in mind and no motivation other than simply to touch. When Steve could pull Tony close and nuzzle into the back of his neck and they would doze, warm and sweet.

Steve liked lazy afternoons when Tony would play the piano and tell Steve about his mother, who’d taught him. Steve liked bright, happy mornings when they wrestled, laughing, over the last waffle, then split it anyway, feeding each other bites and making what Clint called their “gooey faces” at each other.

He couldn’t say he _liked_ waking up from nightmares, but it eased the pain and terror when Tony was there to hold him, to anchor him in the present and reassure him that he hadn’t lost everyone again. And when Tony trusted him to do the same, when Tony clung to Steve so tight that it left bruises and stared with sightless eyes at a death too-narrowly escaped or cowered under the accusing stares of the ones they hadn’t saved... It warmed Steve to know that Tony trusted him with those moments of vulnerability.

When Tony let someone into his life, he let them _all_ the way in. Steve couldn’t help but love it.

 


	16. Defiance [Bucky/Tony]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Chapter Tags: angst

The Winter Soldier was awake, but his head did not throb with the aftereffects of a wipe. His skin did not feel raw and abraded, as it always did following a thaw. His mind was unfogged, his memories, what few he had, all too clear.

He could not recall waking in this way ever before. An anomaly.

Anomalies were dangerous at best. The Soldier opened his eyes and took stock of his situation.

He was in a bedroom, not a medical facility or a hastily-assembled recovery area. It was a nice room, with tastefully expensive furniture and soft sheets on the bed. There was art on the walls that appeared to be original.

This was not the first time that they had tried to gain the Soldier’s compliance through bribery, though it was the most luxurious attempt that he could recall. He was not indifferent to it -- who would not prefer comfort, when it was available? -- but no amount of luxury could buy his obedience.

Doubtless, they were monitoring this posh cell. Soon, they would come and tell him why they had woken him. If he allowed them to know his mind, they would bring more soldiers than he could overcome. The Soldier sat on the edge of the soft bed and waited.

He waited much longer than he expected, which only served to underscore his belief that this was a test. After an hour, there came a knock on the door. The Soldier did not let his contempt show on his expression, but that did mean he was indifferent. They hoped to trick him by letting him believe they thought him a person. He would play the game, for now. “Come,” he said softly.

The handler came into the room by himself, which was... unprecedented. More than an anomaly, it was a shocking violation of the rules. The handler was smaller than the Soldier, in civilian dress, and unarmed, yet he appeared utterly unafraid. Did he have some killswitch of which the Soldier was unaware? The handler looked the Soldier over, brow creasing in what appeared to be worry. He focused on the Soldier’s face. “Are you okay, honey?”

Something _twisted_ in the Soldier’s gut. They _knew_. They knew of his deviance, they knew he was free of the programming, they knew everything. This was not a test; it was a _trap_. And yet, they had sent the handler in alone, unarmed.

The Soldier snatched the handler into a headlock and -- he had no weapons, but the thing grafted to his shoulder was a weapon in its own right -- closed the metal hand over the handler’s throat. “I will not be your puppet,” he snarled, still quietly, for the handler alone to hear. “I will _not_ do their bidding.”

The handler’s pulse was faster now, but still steady and unafraid. Was the man _mad_? “Bucky--” he said, but the Soldier tightened his grip until the man could not talk. It must have been the start of some code, from the way the single word made his head ache and his muscles shiver.

“Use your device, if you have one,” the Soldier sneered. “I do not belong to them any more.”

No pain announced the Soldier’s imminent death. He should kill the handler, but found himself strangely reluctant. Instead, he tossed the handler into the corner of the room. “Do not follow me,” he said. The handler, coughing for breath, did not acknowledge, but the Soldier had no doubt he’d been heard.

He strode out of the room and was met with no guards. The handler had, truly, come alone. The Soldier ignored the nagging sensation that the handler should be helped. Instead, he picked a direction and started walking.

 


	17. Jubilant [Bucky/?]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Chapter Tags: wedding, who is the groom? you decide!

Natasha brushed imaginary lint from the shoulders of Bucky’s jacket. “You look happy,” she said.

“I _am_ happy,” Bucky agreed.

“I know, but you _look_ happy,” she repeated. “I’ve seen you looking content...”

_Curled on the couch, legs tangled together even as they squabbled over the popcorn bowl._

“Protective...”

_Crouched over him, weapons drawn and lip curled in a sneer of challenge, ready to take on all comers._

“Smug...”

“ _Good evening, ladies. I’m so sorry, but I’m just going to have to steal him away from you for a dance or three.”_

“Satisfied...”

_Strolling into the kitchen that first morning-after, feeling like a cat in the cream, daring the others to comment on his fucked-out look of bliss or the hickeys scattered down his throat._

“Hopeful...”

_Two years, and they were still going strong. Bucky was beginning to think that it might last._

“Gleeful...”

_The reporter gaped, momentarily shocked into silence, and Bucky wanted to do a dance of joy and sing it from the rooftops: That’s my man!_

“Proud...”

“ _I know it had to be hard, baby, but you did the right thing. I’m so fucking proud.”_

“But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite so... jubilant.”

Impulsively, Bucky pulled Natasha into a hug and kissed both of her cheeks. “That’s because no day has ever made me happier than this one,” he told her. “Now tell me you’re done fussing, ‘cause I’m getting married here in a minute.”

 


	18. Waiting [Bucky/Steve]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Chapter Tags: sad Steve, Bucky in cryo

Steve had never liked the cold, and it was cold in the cryo-preservation facility where they were keeping Bucky.

The doctor had explained it to him -- something to do with offsetting the heat of the computers -- and Steve had accepted it as necessary, but that didn’t stop him from wishing it could be a little warmer.

He stood in front of Bucky’s capsule, waiting.

If he only looked for an instant at a time, Bucky looked almost like he was sleeping. It was a far cry better than the tortured expression he’d had in the pictures from the file Natasha had found, but it was still too still. Too quiet. Too calm.

Bucky had never been a calm sleeper. He’d rolled and thrashed, thrown his arms around, kicked at the blankets, flipped his pillow and flopped back down.

“I used to bitch at you so much,” Steve said softly. “I’d complain every time you woke me up. But nowadays, Buck... These days, I can’t sleep at all. I need you there. I need...  I just need you, is all. I know what you’re doing is the right thing, I know you’ve gotta do it. I _know_.

“But it’s gotta end, sometime. And when it does, Bucky... I’ll be waiting.”

When Sam came looking, he found Steve sitting on the floor beside the cryochamber, curled awkwardly around its base. Sleeping, and waiting.


	19. Nature [Bruce/Natasha]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Chapter Tags: self loathing, bamf Natasha

“What is this?” Bruce begged. “I can’t keep... Are you toying with me? Is this some kind of test?”

Natasha shook her head. “You know what this is, Bruce.”

“You can’t want me,” he whispered. “You’ve seen... what I am, in my secret heart. I’m a monster.”

“The Hulk isn’t--”

“He’s _me_ , Natasha,” Bruce snapped. “Don’t try to tell me he isn’t. I’m not Steve, I’m not _good_. The serum amplified _me_.”

“Now you’re putting words in my mouth,” Natasha said, not at all cowed. “The Hulk is a part of you, yes. But he’s more than you’re giving him credit for. _You’re_ more than you’re giving credit for. You’re more than the Hulk.” She smiled, a little. “I’ve always liked smart men.”

Bruce turned his back to her. “Maybe you should go flirt with Tony, then.”

“I have,” she said, brutally honest. “But that was for work. I would have slept with him, too, if the job had demanded it. Not the worst assignment I’ve had. If any of us is a monster, Bruce, it’s me.”

“No, you’re just--”

“I killed my first man when I was twelve,” Natasha interrupted. “I hadn’t had my first period yet. I didn’t know the meaning of the word _remorse_ until I was an adult, and it took me years to understand how much red was in my ledger.”

“They made you do those things,” Bruce argued. “You didn’t know better.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Life is choices, Bruce. I chose, once, to seduce and kill for the Red Room. Then I chose to seduce and kill for money. Then I chose to seduce and kill for Fury. You know what I have learned, from all those choices?”

“What?”

“That it doesn’t matter who I kill for. My ledger will always be red. Blood stains, and all I can do is hope that adding more red to my ledger will keep someone else’s clean. I have no illusions about what I am, about my nature.”

“You’re more than an assassin, Natasha,” Bruce said.

“And you’re more than the Hulk. It’s time I got to make a choice for life instead of death. I choose you.” She held out her hand. “Will you choose me back?”

Bruce hesitated, then took her hand.

 


	20. Sheltered [Gen]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Chapter Tags: team as family

“You are surrounded,” said the voice on the loudspeaker. “Weapons that I control, pointed at you from every angle. Guards at every conceivable entrance. It is possible you could escape, but you would almost certainly lose one or more of your number in the attempt.”

Steve scanned the room, barely paying attention. Tony would be recording it, having JARVIS run an analysis on the voice to separate the truth from the lies, possibly even identifying them. But that they were surrounded by weapons and people -- that, Steve could see for himself.

“And all I want,” the voice continued, “is the monster. Surely, your lives would be simpler without him anyway. I shall give you thirty seconds to make up your minds.”

“Guys,” Bruce started, “maybe--”

“Nope,” Clint broke in. “Stop right there.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Tony added.

“We are Avengers,” Natasha agreed. “We will not abandon one of our own.”

“I’d be okay,” Bruce argued. “I can’t... I can’t risk you guys.”

“Fear not, my friend,” Thor said. “We take this risk upon ourselves. Giving you up in such a manner would be the rankest of cowardice. We should be unfit to show our faces after such a failure of courage.”

Steve clapped Bruce on the shoulder. “You wouldn’t walk away if it were one of us.” Steve knew that was true. Bruce was steadfast and loyal. He wouldn’t leave, even if that gas they’d been dosed with had shut down the Hulk and made Bruce too muddled to think properly.

“Time’s up!” said the voice. “Now, all of you, step away from Dr. Banner, or face the consequences.

As one, the team spun to stand back-to-back, with Bruce at their center, weapons raised and ready.

The weapons opened fire, and Steve pulled Natasha under the shield with him. Behind him, he heard the sound of bullets ricocheting off Iron Man’s armor. The gun to Steve’s left exploded, courtesy of one of Clint’s special arrows, and Steve heard boots running toward their position. This was going to be a bitch, though it would be a nothing fight if only--

With a roar, the Hulk burst past whatever had been holding him under Bruce’s skin. He swept up the Avengers as if they were dolls and tucked them against the wall, sheltering them with his broad back.

Yeah. This fight was over before it had even really begun.

 


	21. Fingertips [Bucky/Tony]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Chapter Tags: PTSD, dealing with mental issues

Bucky was curled into the back of the workshop, knees tucked up against his chest and arms curled around them. He was shivering, eyes flicking fearfully and unceasingly around the room, as if trying to figure out which shadow held the next danger he would be required to face.

Tony skidded into the room and pulled to a stop as soon as he saw Bucky. He sighed once in relief, that Bucky was safe.

Bucky’s eyes locked on him as soon as he came into sight. Tony took a few steps closer, and Bucky’s shivering got more violent.

Tony stopped, maddeningly out of reach. “Bucky?” he tried, keeping his voice soft and gentle. “Do you know where you are?”

Bucky’s eyes darted left, right, back to Tony. “Shop,” he whispered.

“That’s good,” Tony said. “That’s great. Do you know who I am?”

Bucky nodded, the barest movement. “Tony.”

“Super,” Tony praised, “that’s perfect. And how about you? Who are you?”

“Bucky.” Bucky looked down, then back up, focusing on Tony’s chin, like he couldn’t quite bring himself to meet Tony’s eyes. “Bad dream,” he said.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “Figured it was something like that when I woke up and you were gone. Don’t worry, it happens to all of us, once in a while. Can I come closer?”

Bucky grimaced in frustration. “Can’t think, can’t... Everything is sharp.”

In other words, Bucky knew where he was, logically, but his brain was still sending out danger signals for every little thing.

“Okay,” Tony said. He lowered himself to the floor, crossing his legs and reaching out with one hand. “You come to me, when you’re ready.”

Bucky eyed the extended hand, mouth pressed into a thin line. He frowned in frustration, but uncurled his metal arm and reached out. He stopped a scant inch from Tony’s hand. “I can’t,” he gasped, pulling his arm back in. “Sorry, I’m sorry--”

“Hey, no,” Tony said softly. “It’s okay. I’ll wait. It will pass, it always passes, right?” Bucky bit his lip, unwilling -- unable -- to believe it. “It will,” Tony said, with slightly more conviction. “It will pass, and I’ll still be here, waiting.” He dropped his arm, hating the way that made Bucky slump with relief. Every time this happened, Tony hated it, but the spells had been getting shorter and farther apart, so there was room in there for hope.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said again. “I can’t, you don’t, don’t deserve--”

“Don’t listen to your brain right now,” Tony advised. “It’s lying to you. You _know_ it’s lying. You know I’m not dangerous, and it’s telling you I am. You know where you are and who you are, but it’s trying to convince you this is a dream or a hallucination. Right?”

Bucky nodded.

“And it’s trying to tell you that you’re bad, that you can’t have good things in your life, and that’s a lie, too. I promise.”

Bucky made a choked sound like a half-swallowed sob, and dropped his forehead to his knees. Which made Tony’s heart ache, but was actually a good sign, if Bucky’s hypervigilance had relaxed enough to let him take his eyes off the room. It meant he was starting to come out of it.

Tony waited a long moment, and then inched a little closer. Bucky twitched -- there was no sneaking up on him, not for Tony anyway -- but didn’t protest, so Tony inched closer still, until Bucky was only an arm’s length away.

Then he waited, watching. He watched the shivering slow and stop, watched each muscle slowly ease out of coiled readiness. He waited while Bucky’s harsh breathing softened and became more regular, waited for Bucky to look up again.

“Tony?”

Tony held out his hand again, offering, and this time, Bucky reached back with his flesh hand, until their fingertips touched.

 


	22. Lost [Clint/Tony]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T  
> Chapter Tags: injury, panic, asshole boyfriends

“I think we’re lost.”

Tony glared. “We’re not lost, Clint. Shut up.”

“Oh yeah? Then where are we?”

Tony shot Clint another look and tipped his head back to examine the sky. “Well, that’s the North Star,” he said, “and there’s Orion, and the Pleiades.”

“Uh-huh,” Clint agreed, re-settling the emergency bag on his shoulder. He’d barely had time to grab it before they’d had to bail out of the rapidly-descending (okay, crashing) quinjet. It was a good thing he _had_ grabbed it, though, since it contained the medical kit. “What’s all that mean, genius?”

Tony considered thoughtfully for another moment before nodding decisively. “We’re still on Earth.”

“Oh, well, thanks, that’s a load off my mind,” Clint snarked.

“Hey, given the way our lives have been lately,” Tony protested, “it’s a valid concern!” There was an edge to his voice that made Clint look at him more closely, and a wrinkle at the top of his forehead that said he wasn’t nearly as sanguine about their situation as he was pretending.

Clint sighed. “We’re going to be okay, Tony.”

“If I had a suit, JARVIS could triangulate from satellite transmissions,” Tony said petulantly.

“If you had the suit, you’d have been able to fix that sabotaged engine, or at least fly us straight home,” Clint pointed out. “And then we’d be in the middle of a scramble to pinpoint the bad guy and get them locked up.”

“And instead, I’m trudging through some unknown wilderness with a broken arm.”

“With your boyfriend,” Clint pointed out, “who is carrying the emergency kit with the painkillers you keep refusing to take.”

“I don’t want to get all fuzzy-headed.”

“The boyfriend,” Clint continued, as if he hadn’t even heard Tony, “who has _lots_ of experience with getting lost and roughing it until someone comes to get me?”

Tony huffed. “Fine, then what do you suggest?”

“I suggest,” Clint said, “that we find a flat spot by that stream over there and use the tarp from the emergency kit to make a tent. And then I suggest I blow you.”

Tony almost stumbled over the ground. “You what?”

Clint shrugged. “The endorphins will help with the pain,” he said, as if that were the only reason he was making that suggestion. “And then we’ll use the radio in the kit to call for help.”

“The radio in the kit,” Tony said.

“Yeah.” Clint suppressed a snicker at the look Tony was giving him.

“You could’ve led with that, asshole.”

“My way was funnier.”

Tony sighed, put-upon. “Why am I dating you, again?”

“Let me rig up that tent for us and I’ll remind you.”

 


	23. Wishes [Bucky & Steve]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Chapter Tags: supernatural au, bucky is not the winter soldier

The genie was big and dark and terrifying, but Steve had mastered his fear decades ago. The genie glowered at him from behind its mask, and Steve held more tightly to the lamp, because who knew what havoc the creature would wreak if it could control its own actions?

The genie loomed, and Steve stood fast until it shrank again, to somewhere near human size, and bowed in acknowledgement. “Master,” it said. “What is it that you desire?”

The first wish of Steve’s heart, the thing that sprang immediately to mind, the thing he wanted most in all the world... was an impossibility; Bucky had fallen and died seventy years ago.

“Granted,” boomed the genie. It... _flickered_ , was the only word Steve could think of, like a guttering flame, and shrank some more, until it was nearly exactly Steve’s size. The touch of two glimmering fingers to its mask, and the mask dissolved, revealing...

“Bucky?” Steve gasped, and then shook his head angrily. “No,” he snapped, “I don’t want some simulacrum, that’s not--”

“It’s me, pal,” the genie said. “I swear it is. Your mom’s name was Sarah. And you used to wear newspapers in your shoes.”

Who knew that? No one, _no one_ still living. “But... how?”

Bucky grimaced. “The Russians found me, and shipped me to the North African theater to experiment on me. I don’t... remember a lot of that, but they turned me into this. I’ve been granting wishes for Hydra, Stevie. You... I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to just send me back into my lamp and bury me in the desert again.”

“Not a chance,” Steve said. “That’s not your fault. You couldn’t help granting their wishes, not if this is what they turned you into.” Bucky didn’t look convinced. Steve looked down at the lamp in his hands. “What can I do?” he asked. “To free you? To make it so they can’t control you, ever again?”

Bucky grimaced. “To free me? My master has to wish it. And not just say the words, but truly and fully _want_ it.”

“Of course I--”

“Steve.” Bucky looked at him, then looked away again. “I won’t go back to the man you knew, even then. At best, I’ll still be... this. At worst, I could become human again -- but I’d be ninety-four years old. On the brink of death, or even dead already.”

Steve swallowed. Bucky being a genie wouldn’t be so bad, but... He thought of Peggy, shuddering on that cusp, her memory shattered and dark like an old mirror. Could he wish that, for Bucky? Could he wish for Bucky to _die_?

He could, he thought, if it meant Bucky wasn’t a slave anymore. He needed _that_ more than he needed anything in the world.

Bucky’s breath caught. “You mean it,” he whispered. “You _want_ it.”

“You’re your own man, Buck,” Steve said. “No one has the right to withhold that from you.”

Boiling black smoke enveloped Bucky. Steve watched, fascinated and frightened, as the smoke sparked with electricity, a thunderstorm in miniature.

Bucky screamed, and Steve jolted into action, charging into the smoke with his shield held high in one hand, and Bucky’s lamp in the other.

He found Bucky on his knees, the smoke slowly dissipating around them. “Buck?”

Bucky looked up, and the smoke swirled in his dark eyes. “I’m... I’m _free_.”

 


	24. Breakable [Bucky/Steve/Tony]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M  
> Chapter Tags: smut, pwp, porn with feels

“Come on, come on, _c’mon_ ,” Tony taunted, “I’m not fragile.”

“We know you’re not,” Steve said, smoothing his hand down Tony’s spine. But the look he exchanged with Bucky said otherwise. Tony was unenhanced, and older besides, with a normal human’s rate of healing. He was tough, for a baseline human, but compared to Steve and Bucky?

“Always in such a hurry, doll,” Bucky chided, nipping at Tony’s throat. “What if we just want to take our time? Enjoy you, make you squirm and beg for it, hm? What if we want to just cherish you a bit, let you know how much we appreciate you?”

Tony rolled his hips, pushing back into Steve. “That’s what Hallmark is for,” he complained. “You want me to beg, I’ll beg, but I’m not dumb. I know you’re trying to be _careful_ with the delicate special flower, and I’m telling you to stop it. I want some bruises to show off.”

Bucky let out a whine, eyes darkening possessively. Steve wanted to cringe at the thought, though. Tony got banged up and bruised so much already from piloting the armor -- how could he add to that? “Tony...”

“Shh, baby,” Bucky said. “I’m gonna take care of you both. I don’t mind. Nothin’s too good for my fellas.” He nipped at Tony’s throat again, and sucked up a hickey.

Tony groaned into it, his whole body clenching up, and okay, maybe Steve wouldn’t mind a _little_ roughness. But not too much. Not for Tony, who was all too breakable.

 


	25. Friend [Bucky & Steve]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Chapter Tags: canon ‘verse, bucky is the voice of reason

Despite T’challa’s reassurances, Bucky didn’t let himself relax until they were out of missile range of Siberia. Stark had seemed defeated -- and worse, _beaten_ \-- but he also seemed like the kind of guy who didn’t know when to give up. The kind that took defeat as a challenge, rather than an end.

Not unlike Steve.

Steve, who was holding a cold pack to his bruised face and glancing at Bucky sidelong so much that he might as well just give in and stare.

Bucky sighed and sat next to him. “You shouldn’t have done that, pal,” he said.

“Done what?” Steve demanded. “Kept Stark from killing you?”

“Lot of things would be easier right now if he had,” Bucky pointed out.

“I couldn’t let him do that, Bucky. You’re my friend.”

“So was he,” Bucky said, because that tone of betrayal in Stark’s voice was something that was going to haunt his nightmares for weeks, he could tell. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

“Look, I found out about Howard when Zola was taunting us, and immediately after that we got blown up, went on the run for our lives, and then had to take down three helicarriers and Alexander Pierce with a team of less than ten. It slipped my mind.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky said. “Why?”

Steve threw up his hands in frustration. “Because I knew he’d go digging to find out who did it, and I was afraid it would be you!”

“It’s too bad,” Bucky said. “Zemo killed the guy who gave me the order. If Stark had started his digging six months earlier, he could’ve gotten his revenge on the right person. Now he has to be satisfied with me.” It would’ve also put Bucky’s command words in Stark’s hands, which was awful to contemplate.

“I’m not going to let Stark kill you,” Steve said. He sounded very sure of himself, because he could be an idiot.

“Maybe not, but you need to repair that rift,” Bucky said. “Promise me you’ll try.”

“Why?” Steve demanded. “Why should I be the one to reach out, when he’s the one who attacked you?”

“Because it’s _Zemo’s_ fault,” Bucky said. “And if Zemo wanted it, then we’d damn well better do the opposite of that. And because Stark’s not wrong to be pissed, even if he’s got a hell of an overreaction going. Promise me, Stevie. Something tells me you’re gonna need all the friends you can get, soon.”

“The only one I need is you.”

 


	26. Realization [Clint/Pietro]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M  
> Chapter Tags: not quite porn, more feels than porn,

The first time they fucked, it had been in the tense hours leading up to their attack on Ultron. Natasha was in dubious safety, choosing to remain locked up in Ultron’s fortress in the hope that the thing would tell her more -- like its progenitor, it liked to brag. Thor was consulting with the thing that wasn’t JARVIS about the mystical rock in its head. Bruce was sciencing and keeping his head down the way he did when he knew they were going to need the Hulk soon. Steve and Tony were having a strategy meeting, which Clint sure as hell hoped was code for “finally doing something about all the goddamned sexual tension”. And Wanda was meditating or some shit. So Clint was bored, and when Pietro zipped through the room to pull some juvenile prank, Clint said, “You know, there are better ways of passing the time than just pissing me off.” He hadn’t expected the kid to go for it, but he wasn’t about to complain, either.

That time it had been rough and tumble, fueled by boredom and aggression and anticipation and pre-battle jitters. Not quite hatefucking, but not quite into the realm of friends with benefits, either, because they weren’t even friends. Just fellow soldiers, helping each other out in the calm before the storm.

The second time was a few weeks after Ultron, when Clint had learned that Pietro hadn’t died, after all. It had been a close fucking thing, but Helen Cho had worked for more than a day to extract the slugs and shrapnel from Pietro’s body and close up the wounds, and if she hadn’t been a genius to rival Tony and Bruce, he would have died on the table. But she had learned things from the staff while she’d been enslaved to it, and she’d used every single trick it had taught her to undo as much of its damage as she could. (Clint could have told her that feeling guilty for what she’d done under the staff’s influence was a loser’s game, but she’d have to learn that the hard way, the same way Clint and Selvig had.)

When Clint found out, he’d made his way to the quiet medical room where Pietro was recovering, just well enough to be endlessly bitchy about the enforced stillness.

Clint had offered to wear him out enough to sleep, and Pietro had accepted. That time was softer, gentler, out of concern for Pietro’s still-healing innards and Clint’s vast relief and gratitude.

The third time, when Pietro was up and around again, that was when Clint realized.

He realized that Pietro’s endless zipping around was amusing, rather than annoying.

He realized that Wanda had known about them since the first time, and was making space for Clint at her brother’s side.

He realized that Pietro’s face was the first one he looked for when he came to the compound, and the one he lingered on when he was leaving.

He realized Pietro was watching for him, too.

He realized that they might be something a little bit... _more_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There is actually also a fill for day 27, Cage. But I combined it with a Kink Bingo square, and it is Very Very Very NSFW. If that seems like something you'd like, you can check it out [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12470236/chapters/28578852).
> 
> Come and say hello to me [on tumblr](http://27dragons.tumblr.com)!


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